God's Grammar

In this Lenten season, I have been using the Book of Faith Lenten Journey
which encompasses meditation on the words of the Lord's Prayer. Though I have enjoyed each day, perhaps the meditation that has stuck with me most is the exercise of contemplating the pronouns of the Lord's Prayer, God's grammar. What does it mean to say that God is "our" Father in this prayer? What does it mean to ask for "our" daily bread? What is the weight of seeking forgiveness for "our" sins? The words "I","me" and "my" have no place in this prayer, the prayer Jesus gives in answer to the question of how we should pray. Does this change how you see others,to remind yourself again that God is not picking and choosing as we do? Might the notion that we ask for all to have daily bread, inform our choices, our advocacy, and our idea of what is "enough"? How does it feel to ask God to forgive OUR sins,not just "my sins."? There is no "us versus them" in this equation. The other pronoun I have pondered is "your." God, we hallow, your name. What is not there? Holding up ourselves as holy and worthy. Your kingdom come, your will be done. For this to be meaningful prayer, it means we are affirming that God's arrangement of the world is right and should exist and that we pray for it to be so. If that arrangement means that all have a place in the circle, and that all are truly interdependent, can we think more deeply about how we see others? And about the role of our will? Yours is the kingdom and power and glory. Not ours. Not mine. It is hard sometimes to acknowledge that God's kingdom is not always the kingdom that we desire- it does not square with our wants, our preferences, our fears.God hears all our prayers, the prayers of all of us, not just some. And one final thought- if we really mean it when we pray this prayer, how are we called to be workers for this kingdom where all have their daily bread, where all have God as Father, where all seek forgiveness and a place in the kingdom?
Lord, you answered us when we asked you to teach us how to pray. We ask you to teach us how to live what we pray. Amen.

When Have I Denied You Lord?

None of us wants to place ourselves in the same space with Judas, or with Peter in the courtyard that night. After all, what they did or did not do, was so much more serious than any act we could commit or omit, right? And they ACTUALLY met and walked with Jesus in real time, which we never have, so isn't their sin the greater? Or is it a key feature of sin that we seek to justify what looks so glaringly wrong by playing compare and contrast? I know that when I have decided I was too tired to do evening prayer, I have denied you. When the irritating member of the parish wants to talk, I want to run away. When I have been silent when I should have spoken out against an injustice, I have betrayed all you stand for.
My Lenten discipline was to give up making excuses for things I did not do, or things I did that i should not have. If I forgot to return a phone call, or just did not make something a priority, when I spoke in haste or anger, or was impatient, instead of giving a "reason" why, I made myself simply acknowledge what I did or did not do - period. After all , if we say God's grace is sufficient, it is so regardless of our own efforts at justification. And if there is something we need to amend, we should stop seeking to dress it up with feel better words. It has made me more conscious of little things. Like, if I snapped at someone, I said I was sorry - period. Not "sorry but I ... " I found I was not only more aware of the ways I may not measure up, but more honest and more truly grateful for grace. I can do nothing to add to it. This week I think about the ways I have denied God and give thanks for the fact that in spite of it all, nothing can separate us from God. And I am also reminded to not try to decide how God also acts this way for all of my brothers and sisters, even when I cannot comprehend. We all deny God, we all need grace, we all are embraced in this grace - let us live it out in our lives and our response to those in our midst.